


Holy Water and Scuffed Knees

by h00ligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h00ligan/pseuds/h00ligan
Summary: Convents and hunters have an agreement; they offer free room and board, it's how John gets by on long hunts when Dean and Sam are young.An eleven year old Dean doesn't grasp the concept of a greater plan.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Holy Water and Scuffed Knees

_February 19, 1990_

Dean doesn't remember when he stopped praying.

He knows he used to, a lifetime ago, he used to kneel by his little bed with Mom and pray for grandparents he had never met, pray for his little brother's health, sometimes pray that Daddy would come back, sometimes pray that he wouldn't. 

Dad didn't keep up the praying when Mom died. Dean did, until he didn't.

Dean was six the first time he was dropped off at a convent. The sisters usually didn't accept men, but this was an exception. After all, they were hunters. God's soldiers, and who were they to make it hard for soldiers to fight? Dean never really considered himself a hunter, he'd shot guns with Dad since he was six, but now, he had his own gun, with silver bullets. He thought it made him a man. A real hunter.

It was a relief, at least, to be put in a convent. The cots weren't thick, the walls weren't insulated, but that hardly mattered in South Carolina. What mattered was the hot food in Sammy's stomach he didn't have to panhandle to pay for, getting those blessed four hours of sleep without checking the salt every time he heard wind knock against the windows and door. This was holy ground. there was a Devil's Trap across the whole convent. Iron and silver and holy water was placed at every doorway. It was one of the few places he felt truly safe.

It used to be, when Dean started school, that he'd talk to the nearest priest and get him enrolled in Sunday school along with public school. But then he learned that he wasn't learning about what mattered, only about God's love for His children, and Dean remembers asking if Mommy was with Jesus after a Mother's Day session, and he never went to Sunday school after that. He knows he still prayed after that, he prayed that what took his mommy away from him would give her back, please. He remembers asking God to bring back the Daddy he remembers before his life was torn apart.

Something inside Dean had to change because the last time he was at a convent, he told the Sisters that he doesn't pray to a God that broke his family when asked if he wanted to say the blessing. Something deep inside Dean whispered _an eleven year old shouldn't have a gun in his pocket._

These sisters were kind, didn't expect hunters to share their faith. He figures they've had enough hunters pass their way that it didn't much matter anymore whether they prayed or not. 

Dean was helping peel potatoes, trying to make some conversation. "Sister Agnes?"

"Yes, child?"

"I don't believe in, you know, God, and stuff. Do you believe in what we do?"

"You will, one day, son. But it's not our job to make you believe. You'll believe when you're a man. As for what I believe," she sighed, pausing her work and clicking off the gas stove so the pot didn't boil over. "The Lord provides tests to us all. Tests, that aren't possible to pass. The true test is how one faces their fate."

"Like the _Kobiyashi Maru?"_ Dean asked, confused.

She chuckled. "I suppose. When we take our oaths, we're taught to defend ourselves. We're told about the spirits and the demons and the vampires, that what they are isn't metaphor. It just strengthens our faith."

"Why did God test my Mom?" he asked, quietly.

"Everyone has parts to play in God's plan. And God's plan for you... is beyond special." She turned the stove back on. "Now speed up. I have arthritis and I'm going faster than you."

It's a rare occasion when Dad is able to come home at the end of the day before setting out for a new hunt, especially since Dean turned ten and Dad decided he's old enough to look after Sammy when they're in the hotel room alone. But, the Impala's distinct engine proceeds the sound of tire on gravel, he could pick that car out from half a mile away. 

Dad greets Sammy with a big hug, and Dean with a stern clap on the back. Dean's too old for hugs, now. He tries to remember, for the thousandth time, what his mother's hugs felt like. All he remembers is a floral perfume or the pink curlers that were sometimes in her hair. His memory of her is like sand, little by little, it's slipping away. First, her face went, then, the sound of her voice, then, the feeling of her hugs. Will he be like Sammy, not able to remember he has a mother at all?

Everyone in the convent eats together, at a large table, but there's a nun, so much older than the rest, who looks at Dean through cataracts, as though she sees him clear as day. When he and Sam have finished helping gather the dishes, she grabs his arm. 

"Michael?"

"No, Dean, I'm sorry, Sister."

"Michael, you shouldn't be here for another twenty years," she tutted.

"I tried to tell you, Sister, my name is Dean." 

She tilts her head, trying to think. "Michael, you know hanging around that Castiel character is bad news. Mortal folly if I've ever seen it."

Castiel? He's only heard that name from Dad's journal, as part of a spell. An angel's name. Was she trying to say Dean looked like a witch she knew? Sister Agnes took her shoulder. "You'll have to excuse Sister Joan." she shook her head. "Ten years ago she wandered away when she first developed Alzheimer's, and she was missing for three years. When she came back she started spouting nonsense. None of us know what it means, either."

When Dean gets back, he feigns going to his bed, instead goes to the library. Astonishingly, the writings about angels are slim. Almighty beings, created to dole out God's wrath or mercy as He seemingly saw fit. But, no visualizations, beyond claims that those who tried to see their true forms would rarely live to tell the tale. The only stories of those who met angels are horror stories: the faithful become blind, deaf, some die. The message is clear: do not perceive angels. Then why did she say one's name?

It took more digging to find the name Castiel. If he had Sam's talent for research, it wouldn't take nearly as long. There are only a few sentences on him. A member of a regiment, a warrior. But if she named one angel... could she be calling him the name of another?

Any art he sees of Michael is classical, striking Lucifer down, mainly. His face doesn't resemble Michae's at all, especially as a child, so, why... why does she call him that name. 

There's an impulse that takes over Dean as he goes to bed that night, kneeling by the bed and signing with holy water, holding onto the iron post, should he accidentally summon anything. A prayer he finds in the hymnal. 

When he recites it, a wind pounds against the windows, and he hears a voice in his mind. "Someday, as a man, you will understand."

**Author's Note:**

> Sister Joan spent a few years as a vessel for an angel and her memories and knowledges of prophecies mixed with the angel's and that's why she confuses Dean for Michael


End file.
